


Power's Out

by notjustmom



Series: Derisive [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M, established/past Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: This is a pre-Euphemism story, during Sherlock's 'time away'; part of the Derisive verse.





	Power's Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/gifts).



> For Moth... an early advent present, sweet <3

“I don't want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine.” - Rumi

"Power's out." 

"Hmmm?"

"Storm must've iced things up a bit. Power went out last night."

"This morning," Mycroft muttered against his shoulder. Greg's breath caught, he sighed, then groaned as he rolled up to sitting so he could look the other man in the eyes.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Myc. I know all of your tells. Every. single. one. And not because I'm just a lowly copper."

"Don't."

"Don't what?" Greg tried to smile at him, but saw the pain in his eyes and laid back down into the plush pillows, as he blew out a long breath. "I'm kidding, love."

"You. You always sold yourself short. Still do, and it's still -"

"No. It was never your fault. Damn it, Myc. My music - it's something I will always have, but it wasn't meant to be my life. I think we always knew that. Even then. Do you remember? Our Christmas? Our one Christmas, before, back then?"

Mycroft sighed, then ran his fingers through Greg's silver, closely cropped hair, he could still remember when it was so dark it was nearly black, and so soft, he had sometimes let it grow out - into curls that bounced when he played. "I remember. We barely had money for food, forget money for heat. I could have asked my parents for help, but - god, we were so young, so sure of everything, the arrogance of youth. It was the best Christmas I ever had. You, you had saved your busking money, and you bought me the most beautiful pen. I still have it. I wrote you - a whole book. A book of - "

"the night  
wraps our hearts  
in deepest darkness  
and yet,  
you are my light."

"'The only light I need to see.' God, you still remember that -"

"I still have it. It's in my case. Never left my side. You never quite believed you would have been enough for me."

"How could I? I wasn't enough for myself. I didn't know what or who I was. There were expectations."

"Only your own. I don't think your parents would have minded all that much. Sherlock wouldn't have given a rat's arse what you did. As long as you left him in peace. Maybe -"

"You think -"

"No. What happened to him wasn't your fault, and you know it. He knows it and you know it. I think if you had come with me to Boston, we might have worked out, maybe not, doesn't matter. I was going to say, I think the two of you would have been closer, if you, if the two of you - damn. This isn't how I want to spend today, Myc. I don't want to do a postmortem on what we could have been, I want to focus on the beautiful, mature, loving man, next to me, right now, and since the city is at a standstill, I don't want to leave this bed unless it is completely necessary, especially since you were awake all night watching me sleep, and even in this ridiculously posh flat, when the heat is off, it's bloody freezing."

"Was not."

"Were too, idiot."

"Okay, I may have indulged - a bit. So much time, Gregory, so many years -"

Greg put a finger to his lips and shook his head. "I'm here now, love, we're here now."

Mycroft nodded and pressed a kiss to Greg's finger. "Happy Christmas, Gregory."

"Happy Christmas, Myc."


End file.
